Iam in the heart of New Orleans. Its humidity and robust nightlife are a lure to my senses. To my left, I can walk three blocks and find a Voodoo priestess and to my right, I can get lost in the arms of a stranger I can pick up in a bar.
The former is infinitely more intriguing than the latter. Maybe someone with a little magic in their blood can help rid me of the chaotic feeling knotting my nerves together.
I close my eyes and inhale.One. Two. Three.I hold the night’s air before slowly releasing it back into the ether. I could live here forever and never go back to another dry Seattle summer again.
I love the heat and the feel of sweat trickling down my spine. It makes me feel alive and I will take that any day of the week. Swanky jazz with horns and piano has me wanting to backtrack the way we came.
I take another deep breath and this time the currents shift, bringing with it the heady scent of sin and sex. It’s as thick as the water clinging to the midnight air and just as enticing as the deep base pulsating outward from local dive bars and lounges.
Part of me wants blackness and silence. But giving in to those baser instincts is a recipe for depression. I can’t let that happen. I turn in place. As much as I would love to get lost in the crowds a street over, I don’t think my friend has the same idea.
I loop my arm through my best friend’s and lean into her. Arabelle has stardust in her eyes more than usual. Gold body paint and promises of forbidden lusts and kinks being fulfilled on a flashy billboard have lured her in and I swear if the right kind of man stood in front of her right this second, the innocent little flower would drop into his arms.
For a moment I imagine what it would be like to be that innocent of the world around me. My stomach clenches and my mind screams with panic.
Silly girl. She lives in a world where everything is just as it seems. I open my mouth to tell her to get her feet back on the ground, but the clanking of steel over rails from a passing streetcar drowns out a lot of my sour words.
On second thought, who am I to dash away her dreams of living in a fantasy world?
I shake the past off and pull my hair off my neck so I can breathe a little easier. I don’t know why, but having my hair on my neck makes me want to throat punch someone in the heat this sweltering.
“What are you looking at?”
She points up. “Them.”
I follow the direction of her finger.
One night of sin.
Our little secret.
What are you waiting for?
Let Club Sin New Orleans sate your every sinful desire.
The words flash on the digital billboard. Next tothem.
Whoa. An aura of intoxicating arousal bleeds through the screen as three men take the willing woman’s mouth in a sultry kiss before turning back to the viewer.
Wow.
Club Sin. I wiggle my brows at Arabelle, getting her to laugh a nervous little sound that makes me think what I am about to share won’t go over too well.
“Kinky shit. Club Sin does sound fun. Do you see what they offer?” I glide a mischievous look her way. “Wanna?”
Just like clockwork when presented with something forbidden, Arabelle grabs my hand and points us toward the opposite side of the street to safety. I love her for it, but this girl needs to live a little. She thinks hiding out in our dingy and cheap hotel room will keep her safe and her good Catholic upbringing intact.
Some people are too sheltered for their own good.
I raise my voice over the clanking sound of another passing streetcar and count off why Club Sin would be a good idea. “One, we wanted to get lost and have an adventure for once which leads me to number two, there are so many rooms to pick from and you know I like some kinky shit…”
What I am not saying is possibly the best reason why Club Sin would be the place to be tonight. The truth is, I need to find a man. I’ve run away from personal contact for so long that I fear if I keep doing it, I’ll die never knowing love.
Arabelle looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Okay, so it’s also true that I don’t know who is more scared at the thought of a man touching them—my friend or me. She’s confessed to a long dry spell, sure. But it doesn’t compare to mine.
I wrap my arms around Arabelle’s middle. “You know you wanna. Look at all that man meat. The fuck-me-now vibes are off the charts! I could lick all those mountain ridges and pierced nipples for a day and a night when they look like that.”
She rolls her eyes and slaps at me playfully before dropping her head to my shoulder. “You have a serious problem, you know that?”